Born to Run
by Jetmoon
Summary: Kate's story.
1. Prologue

A storm was coming.

Kate could taste it in the air, feel it heavy in her lungs. The chill, whipping winds that preceded all storms gushed across the sea, blowing back her hair. Absently she caught a lock of it as it slapped her face, twisting it behind an ear. She was looking across the uneasy sea towards the horizon.  
Waiting for the black dots that would spell her doom.

The raft had been gone for two days. Kate wondered how long it would be before they were picked up, before the planes and helicopters would come. With them would come rescuers, the media, and men with hollow eyes bearing chains.

There would be no freedom for her when the salvation came. There was no happy family waiting with open arms. They were all long dead. There was only a dark jail where she would be trapped like an animal, locked away, lost in her head.

She had only been in a jail for less than a week, back in Australia. Five days there and she had already felt the despair settling in, the shadows before night. Imagine a lifetime in there...

Shifting, something dug into her shin. The toy plane that was nestled in her shoe, carried with her always, was digging into her skin. She pulled it out, running a finger over the metal as familiar as her own hand. She'd lose it when they took her away, the last link she had to her friend. To any joy or love she had. A slight frown crossed her face and she put the plane away, leaning back.

Sullen black clouds growled overhead, heavy with tears. Behind her, she could hear the hurried preparations as people tied down tents, placing rocks on flapping canvas. Jack was shouting advice to someone, always helpful. She hoped she wasn't there when he heard why they wanted her. She couldn't bear to see his look of revulsion, of hate. And fear.

Her own mother had stared at ther with eyes like that, and sighed for help from dying lips, terrified of her own child. With that one look Kate had lost the last member of her family. Wiping her stinging eyes with the back of her hand, she felt tears.

A low rumble echoed across the ocean, a warning call. Curtains of rain fluttered forward, heading for the shoreline. Maybe hidden inside one of the flapping folds her doom waited.

A fitting end, some would say. But they didn't know her.

Kate stood up and headed to her tent to hide from the raging skies, and from what she knew was coming.

The sky began to weep, the drops sliding down her face like tears.


	2. Chapter 1

_Iowa, 1986_

The tree was only young, groaning under the weight off the two children. Tom shifted nervously as the tree gave another complaining creak.

"Katie, I don't think it's gonna hold as both." he said anxiously, glancing down at the ground. They weren't very high up, but enough to break a bone. Katie was stretched out luxuriously on a branch, apparently at ease.

"It'll hold." She said breezily. Wind swept across the glowing green grasses, rippling beside the seas of corn that stretched for eternity, or so it seemed. Sullen grey storm clouds were boiling to the west, signaling a violent summer storm. Tom wanted to get inside before it reached them, but knew better than to ask. Katie wouldn't go back inside while her parents were fighting.

A tiny tongue of lightning licked the horizon.

Tom gulped as the branch beneath his creaked ominously. He started talking to take his mind of the drop beneath his feet. "So, what do you think?"

"Of what?"

"Goopy."

"It's a stupid idea. No way am I calling our kid Goopy."

This conversation was their summer distraction. Every year since she was four, she and Tom had come up with an idea at the beginning of the long summer months, and spent the rest of the summer arguing about it. Last year it had been ghost stories, and six-year-old Katie spent most of her nights staring at the ceiling, too scared to close her eyes.  
This year it was what they were going to call their nine kids.

"How about Warrick?"

"No." she said, shifting to a more comfortable position.

"Jimmy?"

"No."

"Yogurt?"

"Very funny."

"Harl..." Tom trailed off. Katie opened her eyes, suddenly wary. Tom was staring towards Katie's house, looking uncertain

Katie sat up, puzzled. "Dad?"

"Katie, get down from there! Storms coming!" Her father, a red-headed man with a bushy beard came striding up. His cheeks were red and burning with fury. A strange expression flitted across his face.

"Get down."

"But-"

"Now!" Sullenly Katie did, Tom following more carefully. As soon as her dirty sneakers touched the ground, her father grabbed her by the arm.

"Come on, we're going for a drive." Katie protested, but her dad just kept walking. She ended up being nearly dragged along.

"Dad-"

"Come on."

"Hey! Wait!" Tom half fell out of the tree and started after them.

"Where we going? Dad? Dad!" he wasn't listening.

They were near the house now. He was fumbling in his pocket. Groping for the keys to his car. Katie dug her feet into the soil, scared. Her father hadn't acted anything like this before.

"Dad, where are we going?" she asked frantically. His fingers were digging into her skin, hard enough to bruise. Tom was shouting behind them, sounding far off. Her father rammed the keys into the car lock, fumbling. He was breathing hard.

A scream echoed from the house.

Kate's mother came tearing out, eyes wide with horror. Kate's dad's swore, wrenching the door open.

"Get in Katie, quick."

"But-" he pushed her hard into the car, slamming the door. He started round to the drivers side, but Katie's mother caught up. She leapt in front of her, shouting, her words high and gabbled.

"Don't you dare take her! Don't you-" He shoved her away. She slapped him. Katie began to cry in the back of the car.

He grabbed his wife by the arms, holding her tight. "Don't make me hit you, Diane." he said warningly, giving her little shake. Katie fumbled for the door handle as they began to shout again, the sound fiercer and more painful than it ever did in the house. Words jumbled together until neither made sense, only the fury in their voice could be heard. Katie ran up to them, crying. Her mother swept her up in her arms, clutching her in a grip of iron. Diane stared defiantly at her husband, daring him to take her.

Her father looked from Katie to his wife. Then back.

He turned, getting into the car. Her mother held her tightly as the car crunched over the gravel, reversing violently. Rocks spat from under the wheel, hitting her legs and scratching deep.

With a screech he drove off.

Wrenching free of her mothers grip, Katie ran after him. She dived into a corn field, heading for the road. The plants rippled, slapping her across the cheeks as she stumbled frantically through the waving grain, desperate to get there first.

She burst free onto the side of a long winding road. Her fathers car was already past, heading towards the distant horizon. She called out to him, waving frantically, crying. Her shouts were drowned out by the rumbling thunder and the roar of the receding engine.

The car did not stop, did not pause. It drove into the black storm of the horizon, even as the waving speck in the side mirror faded away.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Diane spent a long time on the phone. Katie would leave in the morning for school, her mother screaming down the phone. She returned to a house that stank of cigarettes. Her mother barely glanced at her when she came in, eyes turning instead to the phone. Her face was lined and crinkled with worry, bitterness and other emotions Katie didn't know.

"Mum, where's Dad gone?" she asked timidly on the fourth morning.

"Back to the army. He prefers a group of old farts in khaki to us!" she savagely stubbed out a cigarette. Katie had the sudden thought that the 'us' really meant 'me', but didn't dare say anything.

On the eighth day, Katie retreated to the tree. It creaked anxiously under her weight as it had before. Katie stretched out along a branch, staring hard at the cornfields, like she had with Tom. It seemed like so long ago. She remembered her father crashing through them to come to the tree. Her vision smeared like heat haze as tears leaked up. Clutching the tree, she wept for the broken love between her parents, even if she didn't understand it. It seemed impossible to her that the two foundations of her life had split apart, leaving her stranded in the middle.

A dark smear appeared, and for a second of vain hope she thought it might be her father.

It was Tom.

He clambered awkwardly up a tree, using only one hand. His other hand was clutched in a fist. He stuck it out.

"I bought you this." he said shyly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

Katie stared at the stick, confused. Then she yelped and squirmed away as it moved, sticking out a woody leg.

"Its a stick insect." said Tom excitedly. Kate couldn't help but giggle. Only Tom would think a stick insect would make anyone feel better. He grinned, and she smiled back, though hers was a lot more wobbly.

As the two seven year olds played, Diane lit up another cigarette, spewing out foul smoke like a dragon. For the ninth time she called the army reserve, demanding to talk to her husband. She was answered by a click followed by a buzzing dial tone. Swearing, she slammed the phone down. Viciously she stabbed the cigarette end into the table. The wood burned, and the acrid smell seem to make Diane's eyes water. But water spilled from her eyes long after the cigarette had died.


End file.
